Pay
by silver-nightstorm
Summary: She was gone and now they would pay. They would pay for what they did.


I've been reading some pretty sad fanfiction today (don't you just hate when a story is so sad but so good you can't stop reading it?) and I was originally going to write a funny Marauders playing pranks story for this… but needless to say, this came out instead…

For: The Pairing Diversity Boot Camp, The School Subjects Competition, The Chinese Moon Festival, The Emilie Autumn Challenge, The Fanfiction Tournaments Competitions – Tournament 2

Dangerous, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hollow, "when will it end", Celestina Warbeck, "Why live a life that's painted with pity and sadness and strife."

**Pay**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 585**

**Summary:** She was gone and now they would pay. They would pay for what they did.

**XX**

He could still remember the exact color of her hair. Blonde. Not just a mundane, everyday blonde. It was a… a Malfoy blonde, platinum and worthy of Queens. It was perfect and beautiful and long and curling and soft and silky and _perfect_. It was his Marlene.

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

His breath caught in his throat and he fought to keep his composure. He gripped the mug in his hands more tightly, letting the familiar aroma of hot chocolate float up to his nose. He almost forgot, for a moment. He almost forgot. For a moment, he was with her again, at Hogwarts. It was the day before exams and she actually wanted to study. She had holed herself up in the library, surrounded by a tower of books. He had… _persuaded_ her to pursue other activities. And then he remembered because she wasn't there anymore. The hollow feeling in his chest returned and he pushed the hot chocolate away from him.

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

"I need something stronger," he hissed, flinching at the harsh sound of his voice. "This isn't good enough!"

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

Molly looked at him sadly and took out a bottle of whiskey. "This is the last one I'm giving you, Sirius," she said sternly. "This isn't healthy…"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what's healthy or not! You have no idea!" He opened the bottle and took a swing, not bothering with a glass. "For your sake, I hope you never do."

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

He knew what he was doing was dangerous. He knew it well. He was drinking himself to an early grave. That was his goal. Because, without her, what was the point? Marlene.

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

Blood had been roiling in his ears for the three hours since he found out. Now, it had quieted to a steady throbbing in his head and he could hear the voice of Celestina Warbeck singing _A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love_ while Molly hummed to it as she cleaned up the kitchen. He took another chug from the bottle. She loved this song. And he couldn't help but love it too for her because her blue, blue, blue eye would light up whenever it came on and she would pull him into a ridiculous spinning dance. Now, the song just makes him angry.

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

She hated him at first, oh she hated him. Thought he was the cockiest bastard in the entire world. She was right, of course, but as he grew to love her more and more, he was different around her. Around her, he was more than the rebellious, devastatingly handsome, Black heir. Around her, he was Sirius. And that's who he needed to be. That's who he needed to be now. But he couldn't go back to that since she was gone.

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

Molly spoke so softly he almost didn't hear her. "Why live a life that's painted with pity and sadness and strife?"

"What was that?" he mumbled, swaying as he tried to get up.

"Nothing, dear," she quickly said. She dashed to his side to hold him up and helped him into his room. He collapsed onto his bed and she quietly left him with his sorrow.

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

They took her away from him.

Tristan Travers. George Selwyn. Edward Goyle.

They would pay.

**XX**

Please R&R :)


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